


This Clamor Answering Reverberation

by Mertiya



Series: Gondolin Forged [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arda Forged, Beleriand, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nuclear Warfare, Reunions, War of Wrath, mairon maybe breaks a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: Beleriand sinks, and Mairon cannot stop it.
Relationships: Maeglin | Lómion/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Gondolin Forged [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920034
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	This Clamor Answering Reverberation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Above All Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200381) by [lemurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemurious/pseuds/lemurious). 



> ummmmm yeah.
> 
> this happened. angsty oneshots are all i can write currently, seems like?
> 
> title from a poem by J.R. Oppenheimer

The retreat was an orderly process, or as orderly as it could be. By the time the ragged remains of the part of the army Mairon was leading reached the top of the mountain, his breathing had evened out, and he wasn’t even thinking too hard about the enormity of what he had just lost. But the folk were tired, and Mairon needed to check in with the rest of the army, so he ran a hand through his hair with exhaustion and called a halt.

He was just turning to look back over the fires of the battlefield when he heard the shout going up and followed Magdud’s pointing finger up, up…up…to the brilliant, orderly row of lights in the sky. Mairon’s heart seized up and clenched, and he found himself dropping back against the cliff face. _What have you done?_

Somehow, he saw his hand reaching out, even though this was not something he had any power to stop, even though there was no time for any of the armies left in—in—how far would the impact go? His mind scrabbled through equations, but couldn’t settle on anything— _R 2 dependency—or is it R8?_ No—no, the power dependency was wrong, he was certain of it, but he couldn’t—

The first of the missiles struck the center of Beleriand, red-gold-bright-flame blossoming outward, beautiful—“ _Get down_!” Mairon cried out, flinging up his arms before the shock wave hit, a wall of impossible sound-vibration-feeling, whiting out the world—

Everything seemed distant. He could hear nothing; all he could see was the vast blossoming mushroom of red flame where Beleriand should be. Where the rest of the armies were. Where Thuri lay in a welter of twisted, black metal, where everything they had built lay, wiped out, erased, deleted—

“ _Maeglin_!” Despite the muffling of his hearing, he could hear himself cry out, though it sounded faint and far away. “Maeglin, _Maeglin_ —little shadow—” When had he last seen him? He’d been commanding the supply lines, but where— _where_?

There were hands on him, hands holding his arms, holding him back, and Mairon realized that he was standing at the edge of the cliff, screaming to the wind. His face was wet. As the hands pulled him back towards safety, the second impact rocked him off his feet again. Mairon collapsed onto what should be solid ground, shaking beneath him, his own terrified wails muffled by his arms.

~

There was ash falling from the sky. Mairon flopped back and stared up at it with some vague curiosity. How far were they, he wondered, from ground zero? And how likely was it that they would be impacted by Melkor’s sickness? Would the Orcs die? Would he? He’d need to pay attention to possible after-effects. He didn’t want to. He didn’t ever want to get up again.

_What did it mean to you?_ he wondered. _Did you know what it would look like? Did you think only of destroying our ‘evil’ and cleansing the world no matter what the cost? Or was there no thought of cost at all?_

_Were we only ever vermin to be eradicated?_

“Can you hear me, Lieutenant?”

He realized he was sitting with a hand outstretched, letting the ash pile up in it. “Yes—yes. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Magdud. We…” He wanted to say they ought to spread out and search for survivors, but the words caught in his throat as he stared out across the sea of grey water below. Had the shock of the detonation triggered a wave? Had the Valar done it themselves? Beleriand was _gone_.

“Lieutenant—” 

Mairon stared around him at the little ragtag group. They were still depending on him, but for the first time in his life, he simply didn’t know if he had anything else to give. He looked at the ground, then forced himself to stand up, one foot after the next. He found he was swaying slightly. “We should look for shelter,” someone said with his voice. “Water first. Then food.” It was not a bad notion, Mairon thought vaguely. Although it was going to be made difficult by the fact that he was so weary he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make his feet move.

There was a general murmur of agreement. Then someone called out, “Look!” Mairon was not at all sure he wanted to look, but Magdud took his elbow and steered him around to look. There was another band of weary soldiers wending their way up the side of the slope, all of them covered in dust from head to foot. They were moving slowly, but they were moving deliberately, and they didn’t look—burned. Just about as tired as Mairon felt.

The leader looked up, shielding his eyes, and Mairon gasped and took half a step forward, even as Maeglin’s dirt-smeared dappled face transformed with sheer joy. A collective shout went up from the Orcs as the little Elf somehow ran up the the rest of the way and flung himself into Mairon’s arms so hard he nearly sent him tumbling back against the cliff face.

“Thought you were dead,” Maeglin sobbed. “Thought—oh, Mairon—”

Mairon pressed his face into greasy, sweaty hair that smelled of metal and ash and burning and thought he’d never felt anything so wonderful. “You got out,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, my clever little shadow—”

“Had to make it out this time myself or I’d never have lived it down,” Maeglin whispered, with a noise somewhere between a sob and laugh. Mairon had to kiss him, just to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Maeglin’s mouth tasted of sour bile and unbrushed teeth. It was horrible. Mairon deepened the kiss, almost trying to inhale him, and Maeglin’s hands pawed desperately at the front of his tunic.

“Melkor?” Maeglin gasped after a moment, pulling back, as the two of them sank to their knees in the dust, still clinging to one another.

Mairon shut his eyes and sobbed, pressing his forehead into Maeglin’s.

“He’s—he’s not—”

“He’s not dead,” Mairon told him. “But he’s gone.”

“ _Gone_?”

“To the Void. It was the only way.”

“No…” Maeglin whispered. “Oh, _Mairon_.” 

Mairon smiled through his tears, opening his eyes and using his thumbs to gently wick away the tears at the corners of Maeglin’s eyes. “But I still have you,” he whispered. “We still have each other. We—” he choked a little. All of Beleriand was too large a sorrow for him to swallow. Melkor, gone—he could just about comprehend that. And it didn’t quite hurt—it felt numb, like a rubber band that had snapped hard on his fingers, that he knew _would_ start to hurt at some point, and when it did, the longer it had been numb, the more it would hurt. “But we still have each other somehow,” he said again. “We—”

“Oh, love,” whispered Maeglin. “My fire. My living flame.” He pulled Mairon against him, and Mairon felt a trembling hand in his hair. 

Mairon hid his face, breathing in the familiar scent of Maeglin’s sweat, for probably longer than he really should have. “All right,” he said in a small voice. “We need to keep moving. We need to—” He tried to get up and found that it wasn’t really…working. He stared down at the ground beneath him and tried feebly to make his legs move again, and just—couldn’t.

“Don’t,” Maeglin told him. “Mairon, you’ve been so strong for so long—you need to rest.”

“ _Rest_ ,” Mairon barked out incredulously. “How could I possibly rest now?”

“If I have to force-feed you one of your own sedatives, I’m going to get you to sleep,” Maeglin told him simply. “I’m sure our soldiers will help me.” To Mairon’s confusion, there was a resounding chorus of agreement. “We can move a little way up the cliff and pitch our tents—I think we have enough,” he said, his chin firming up in a way Mairon knew couldn’t be argued with. “We’ll rest for a day or two. Then we’ll move on _slowly_.”

“Did you not see what just _happened_?” Mairon demanded, struggling. 

Maeglin caught his wrist. “Just as well as you did,” he retorted sternly. “And if the entire continent is—is—” He took a deep, shaky breath. “They’re not going to be coming after us now. We’ve lost, Mairon. We’ve lost.”

Mairon stared at him. He needed to stay strong. He needed to keep himself together. He took in a deep breath to steady himself, and it came out as a sudden sob, and then he was crying, and he couldn’t stop. Maeglin flung his arms around him again, holding on tightly. He might have been crying as well; Mairon wasn’t sure.

“Just let me take care of you for once. Let me strong for you. You’ve been the strong one for so long, precious.”

Still shaking, Mairon nodded, pressing his face into Maeglin’s front. Maeglin wrapped him up in his arms and held him, rocking him back and forth. The soldiers moved around them, setting up the tents as Maeglin directed them.

“Thank you,” Mairon whispered, slumping forward slightly.

“I love you,” Maeglin told him, fiercely, and Mairon traced the lines of his lovely dappled skin with his fingers. 

“Thank you for staying safe.”

Maeglin kissed his hairline. “I had to jump for it at one point,” he said quietly. “I landed right on my foot. And it was fine. It held me. Just like that. So you see—you made it so I could keep you safe, Mairon. My fire.”

“My little shadow,” Mairon whispered.

“We’ll get through this together,” Maeglin told him. “I promise.”

“I believe you.”


End file.
